


How Long (Has This Been Going On?)

by keycchan



Category: Free!
Genre: But Mostly Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Schmoop, Sickfic, but only for a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24286738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keycchan/pseuds/keycchan
Summary: It’s nice to spend time around the team, having lunch together on the roof or grabbing ice cream on the walk home, but Haru likes it best when it’s him and Makoto and nothing at all but the routine. Nothing but the ordinary. That’s one of the things he discovers over the week, really — another one of those not-so-revelations, another one of those things he’s known all along but never really took notice of until now, and it’s this:Often, daily life is mundane.Haru really likes the mundane, when it’s with Makoto.---Or, Makoto works himself sick, and Haru stumbles across some epiphanies that aren't actually epiphanies.
Relationships: Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto
Comments: 46
Kudos: 200





	How Long (Has This Been Going On?)

“Makoto-senpai! Your cellphone is ringing!”

Haru vaguely registers Kou’s voice, and Makoto’s answer. Feels the water currents shift around where he’s floating, probably as Makoto climbs out of the pool, and then it steadying once he’s out. Haru doesn’t pay it much mind beyond that, though — is focused instead on the lulling hush of water around his ears, cupping his body, and the sunlight behind his eyelids as he floats languidly on his back. He doesn’t focus on anything else except for how the water feels caressing his skin, and then rushing around him as he flips, turns, and adjusts his form so he can do a few laps up and down the pool.

It’s only when he’s finished about three laps and floating idly at one end that he realizes he’s feeling a little irritated. Impatient. Waiting… but for what? It’s like his body is asking for something his mind hasn’t caught up with yet. It’s only when he opens his eyes and has to immediately shield them from the glare of the sun that he realizes he’s used to having someone with broad shoulders block them out for him. Waiting at the pool’s edge, hand outstretched.

Makoto’s not back yet. He’s supposed to be helping Haru out of the pool.

In a quiet huff, he drops his feet, moves to stand and flick the water out of his hair and eyes. The sound clears and sharpens in the world around him as his ears leave the water. He can hear Nagisa shouting words of encouragement and advice, and the splash of Rei practicing his butterfly, and Kou happily exclaiming an entire half second shaved off of Rei’s personal record, stopwatch and clipboard in her hands.

(Haru doesn’t smile outwardly, but he feels the warmth in his gut. While he himself doesn’t care much for faster times or breaking records, there’s a tournament just a couple of weeks after midterms in two weeks, and they’ve all been practicing hard — even going so far as to continue having swim practice despite looming exams. Rei especially. As eager as ever to catch up and do better. Haru still hasn’t particularly forgiven Rei for the stupidity he showed during the training camp trip, but even he has to acknowledge the hard work. Rei is trying his best to learn to embrace the water, and feel its beauty. Haruka can respect that.)

Nagisa’s babbling excitedly over Rei’s new time when Haru catches Kou’s eye. It’s a testament to how she’s gotten used to the team and their mannerisms that he doesn’t have to call her over for her to jog to his side of the pool.

“Haruka-senpai? Do you need something?” she asks, crouching down.

He shakes his head. “Where’s Makoto?”

“Hmm,” she says, turning her gaze towards the locker room, “Last I saw he was still back there talking to someone over the phone. It sounded important. I guess he  _ is _ taking awhile, huh?”

Haru doesn’t answer her, just hums and turns to where she’s looking. When she offers her hand to help him out of the pool, it feels different — smaller, softer, more dainty compared to the broader palms he’s used to, and the nails are a new sensation. It’s not a bad kind of different, but it’s not one Haru prefers.

Still, he nods his thanks to her as he climbs out, and she nods back before letting go to return to Rei and Nagisa. He makes his way to the locker room, feet leaving a wet trail as he doesn’t even bother to grab his towel. He hears Makoto’s voice even before he goes through the doors.

“— Yes, yeah, I understand. Will you be okay?” Makoto says, voice low and gentle and concerned as Haru quietly pushes open the door. “... Alright. No! No, I can handle it, I promise. You already called their teacher, right? Then I shouldn’t be more than half an hour.”

Haru watches the broad muscles of Makoto’s shoulders as he presses the phone to his ear, the curve of his spine facing Haru. Makoto’s been standing out long enough that the pool’s moisture has dried off of him. Even though he’d be a hypocrite, Haruka finds the sudden urge to tell Makoto off for not using a towel. He could catch a cold.

“Okay, yeah. Bye mom — have a safe trip, okay? Let us know when you arrive? Okay, take care.” Makoto says gently, before shutting his phone.

Haru watches him sigh, sees the tension in his arms. And then Haru sees him jump when he finally realizes he’s being watched.

“Haru! You scared me!” Makoto groans, hand over his chest as if to still his pulse. Haru doesn’t smile, but it’s a near thing. Then Makoto straightens up and sighs, and looks at him properly. “Can you tell Kou that I’ll be skipping swim practice early? I need to get dressed and head off.”

Haru frowns. There’s still at least half an hour of training left. It’s not like Makoto to leave early.

“Everything okay?” Haru asks, cuts to the chase as always. Makoto nods.

“Yeah, I just need to pick up the twins, there’s been a bit of a family emergency and my mom can’t make it.” Makoto explains, and then hurriedly waves his hands at Haru’s widened eyes. “Don’t worry! Everyone’s fine, I just need to go fetch them. Can you let the others know, please?”

Haru isn’t particularly convinced, but Makoto’s never had a reason to lie to him. So he nods, and feels a little knot in his chest unwind at Makoto’s grateful smile. He watches Makoto hurriedly dash off to get his clothes (without even showering first?) and then slowly turns back to walk out the doors again, to head back to the pool.  _ It’s probably fine _ , Haruka thinks.  _ Makoto looked fine, so it’s okay. _ Besides, he wants to see if he can perfect his starting dive before today’s practice is over. He can check on Makoto later.

* * *

It’s later, and Haru stands in front of the Tachibana household’s door, night breeze rustling his hair.

He takes the spare key that Makoto’s mother had given to him when he was 14 and his grandmother had passed away, in case he ever needed anything. Right now, he needs to make sure everything’s okay, so he sticks it in the keyhole and turns. He doesn’t bother knocking, or texting to ask if they’re home. The lights on, and even without that he can hear the twins’ yelling from outside.

He’s convinced that the Tachibana family is connected to cats somehow. Makoto for always crouching down to pet every single one he meets, and the twins for having superhuman hearing abilities. He’s only just cracked open the door and stepping in when he hears the rapid sound of footsteps across wooden floors, and is greeted by two near-identical faces brightening immediately at the sight of him.

“Makoto-nii! Haru-nii is here!!” Ran shouts as Ren comes to attach himself to Haru’s leg. It should be annoying, but it’s only endearing. (He hasn’t said it aloud yet, but he’ll always be grateful that he’s found a family in the Tachibana’s after his own left for Tokyo.)

He just manages to shut the door and remove his shoes at the genkan with Ren still attached when he hears another set of footsteps, louder and heavier, coming up to the doorway. And then he sees a familiar tall, broad stature. Brown hair near bleached green from the chlorine. Eyes brighter still, behind the frames of his glasses, and a mouth curved in a little  _ ‘o’ _ of delighted surprise.

Haru’s chest feels lighter and fuller at the same time. It’s always like that, seeing Makoto.

“Haru! I didn’t know you were coming around!” Makoto exclaims.

“I am,” Haru shrugs, stepping inside. And then he notices the comically small cream apron his best friend is wearing. “What are you doing?”

“Heating up dinner, since mom and dad aren’t here,” Makoto sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

Haru frowns. “Where are they?”

“Dad’s been on a business trip since last Friday, and Mom’s gone to visit our Aunt Kaori,” Makoto says, “We don’t know when she’ll be back.”

“Auntie Kaori got into an accident!” Ran pipes up. “Mama said she’s going there to help Auntie feel better!”

Haru’s eyes widen. He doesn’t say anything, but Makoto reads the question in his eyes, as he always reads Haru.

“Aunt Kaori is in the hospital, but she’s in stable condition now, according to my mom. She’s still in the ICU though, and she  _ is _ mom’s closest cousin, so I think they’re gonna be there for awhile.” Makoto explains. “And dad’s supposed to be coming back from his trip this weekend. Ren and Ran would have joined mom if they could, but  _ they’ve _ got exams this week, and our midterms are after next week, so.”

So it’s just Makoto and the twins this week. Haru gently pries Ren off his leg, and takes the tiny hand in his own instead. “... Do you need help?”

Makoto blinks when he looks up, and then laughs a little, shaking his head. “No, I’ll be fine! I just might have to leave swim practice earlier for the rest of this week to pick these two up. I promise I’ll train extra hard though, while I’m there.”

Haru keeps looking at him. “Are you sure?”

Makoto smiles. “I’m sure. Thank you, Haru-chan.”

The smile is enough to make Haru relax a little. He’s concerned about Makoto’s family, of course, but now he at least knows the situation, and Makoto seems to be confident he can handle things around here. It’ll be fine.

At least until Haru sniffs the air, and Ren says, “Something smells burnt.”

“— Oh shoot, the soup!” Makoto exclaims, nearly jumping a foot in the air before scrambling to the kitchen. Ran and Ren take off after him, leaving Haru to stand in the hallway, staring after them with a familiar warmth in his chest that he can’t help. It’s always been like this.

Makoto should be fine. … But maybe he’ll at least stick around long enough to make sure his best friend doesn’t burn the house down trying to heat up dinner.

* * *

Haru’s usually pretty self-assured in his decisions. He’s not someone who radiates confidence or anything, but he’s usually pretty sure about his choices. Doesn’t think twice about most things. Goes with his gut.

He’s starting to think his gut may have been wrong about Makoto.

On the first day, Makoto doesn’t come to pick Haru up for school. That’s… not ideal, for him, an uncomfortable quietness in his house far beyond the time it should be. But it’s understandable. Makoto’s busy taking care of the twins, so Haru will have to get himself to school on time this week. It’s fine. He’s not incompetent. He just prefers Makoto being there at his side in the mornings. That’s all.

So he understands his best friend not coming to walk with him to school. But then Makoto shows up late for class, clattering in thirty minutes past the first bell and apologizing over and over to the teacher, and  _ that’s _ an occurrence so rare that the whole classroom falls into whispers when he rushes in. Haru doesn’t pay much attention to the lecture (he never does, he’s always preferred reading over things at home and asking Makoto if he needed something clarified) but there’s no ignoring Makoto, or the way he spends the entire morning quietly snuffling into his palm. When Haru glances at him questioningly, he only smiles apologetically, and waves it off.

At lunch, Makoto’s bento box consists of only mildly burnt rice and scrambled eggs. Makoto says  _ I was just running a little late is all _ by way of explanation, and Haru internally translates that as Makoto-speak for  _ I tried to make bento for Ran and Ren but it didn’t turn out really well so I gave them the good bits because I didn’t have enough time to cook again _ . It’s sad enough that Nagisa offers his juice box to supplement the meal. That afternoon, he only shows up to swim practice long enough to apologize to the team for having to skip out early again today, wishes them the best, and then leaves.

Haru’s a little bit worried by the end of it. Of course he would be. Maybe he doesn’t show it as much as the others do, but he’s also known Makoto the longest. He’s his best friend. And for all the social graces and… warmth, that Haru knows he lacks, he does care for Makoto and he’s sure Makoto knows it. It’s why he doesn’t push when Makoto insists that he’s fine, it’s just a little stressful right now juggling things, but it’s only for the week, and he can take care of himself. 

_ Don’t worry, Haru-chan _ , Makoto texts Haru later that night,  _ I can handle things! Please just focus on your studies and training! _

_ Ok, _ Haru replies.

It’s not okay. By Wednesday, Makoto’s moved from snuffling to quietly sneezing, a pack of tissues perpetually on his desk during the entirety of class. There are bags under his watery eyes, and his bento box is just overcooked rice and umeboshi. He doesn’t show up to practice at all. On Thursday, he falls asleep during History class with his nose dripping onto his textbook, and he’s forced to buy something from the cafeteria because he didn’t have time to prepare a bento box at all.

The entire time, he insists that he’s fine. Nagisa asks him how he is every possible second, and Rei and Kou check up on him too. Makoto only smiles, and says  _ it’s okay, it’s just a little stressful, but it’s only a week, I’m fine _ . It’s not the whole truth, Haru knows, but just enough of it that no one can call him out on it. Makoto’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Haru doesn’t know what to say to drag Makoto out of his own stubbornness, and it’s pissing him off.

What makes it worse is that Makoto is still Makoto the entire time. Even tired and clearly a little sick, he insists on not skipping out on class — not even to take a period or two off at the school nurse — because he doesn’t want to miss out on lessons so close to midterms. Even half-starved, he still chastices Nagisa’s lunch diet of junk food and sugar. Even with so much on his plate back home, he still hangs back in the hallway when Kou asks for his opinion on training routines, still helps bring stacks of books to the staffroom when asked, still fulfills his cleaning duty when it’s his turn before rushing off to go home. Early in the morning, Haru still gets texts that say  _ Don’t stay in the tub too long, Haru-chan! _

It’s irritating. Not Makoto, specifically, but just. His stubbornness. His heart, that’s always been too open and warm for his own good. Too soft. More than that, though, Haru’s irritated at himself — for not knowing what to do, what to say, how to call Makoto out and how to make Makoto accept his help. Haru knows when to step in when Makoto’s scared or overwhelmed, and Haru would fight the entire ocean to keep Makoto safe and sound, but times like this? When Makoto insists on doing things because he needs to, because he  _ wants _ to?

Haru doesn’t know what to do. People always say that Makoto’s weak to Haru, but Haru’s never truly been able to say no to Makoto.

So he keeps quiet. Ducks his head when Makoto tries unsuccessfully to hide his sneezing in class, and quietly slips him a packet of tissues. Doesn’t say anything about Makoto’s bento, but stops bringing his own so he can at least accompany Makoto to the cafeteria. Tries not to look too unhappy when Makoto insists on helping his classmates, and tries not to focus on the sudden vacancy of warmth besides him when he walks home from school. It’s fine. It’s just a week. And then Makoto will be at his side again, and it’ll be like nothing has changed, and things will be okay again.

* * *

It’s Friday — only four days since Makoto’s gradual absence outside of class, and possibly the longest four days in Haru’s life — when Makoto actually shows up to class on time with a smile on his face. He still looks tired, and paler than normal, still yawns and has a runny nose, but he seems brighter. Haru knows it’s not just him who’s noticed when lunchtime arrives, and Nagisa  _ beams _ at Makoto the second they arrive on the rooftop from the cafeteria.

“Today’s the last day of the twins’ exams,” Makoto explains, clearly relieved. “After they’re done, they’re going to attend one of their classmate’s birthday party at their house, so I’ll only have to fetch them from there later tonight.”

Nagisa’s grin is wide and excited. “Does this mean you’ll be able to practice with us today, Mako-chan?”

“I’ll be there for sure,” Makoto says, and this time his smile reaches his eyes.

For the first time in four days, Haru feels something warm unfurl in his chest. He doesn’t know what it is, but he’s gone too long without feeling it, without Makoto looking like this by his side. 

… And yet. Haru still feels something uncomfortable rolling in his gut. Something about the darker shadows under Makoto’s eyes, the redness of his nose, the way he keeps rotating his neck like it hurts. Haru’s trying to look for the right words, the right way to ask — and then Rei, thankfully, beats him to it.

“Are you sure you should, though?” Rei pipes up. He sounds both excited and hesitant. His glasses gleam in the afternoon sun. “You… haven’t been looking very well lately, senpai.”

Nagisa pouts, but doesn’t argue. Makoto blinks, but then waves his hand dismissively, smiling. “I’ll be fine. Just haven’t rested well these last few days, but that’s normal for exam season, you know? I need to catch up on training too.”

A pause.

“... And I miss swimming with you all,” Makoto finishes, eyes going soft.

Well, fuck. Haru can’t argue against that. He never could.

So he keeps quiet, and focuses instead on the fact that Makoto’s at his side again. Smiling again, laughing with Nagisa and calming down Rei, even though he yawns a little too much. Sniffles a little too hard. The yakisoba bread in Makoto’s hands is not nearly enough of a meal for him, but Makoto’s heard that enough times over the course of the last four days, eyes tight every time. Haru doesn’t need to add on to the nagging. The feeling of discomfort is still there in the pit of Haru’s stomach, something telling him that he should say something,  _ anything _ , but if Makoto’s smiling like this again, laughing, then what can he even say?

That little voice only keeps growing as the day goes on, though. As much as his chest feels lighter at seeing Makoto smile like this again, talk to him during class, laughing with their other classmates, Haru’s still unsure. Still has a gnawing sense of general unease at every time Makoto sneezes quietly into his handkerchief, whenever he seems to almost doze off during class. Haru still wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what. Especially not when Makoto is so insistent. So Haru holds on, and by the end of classes, he’s focused enough on the prospect of  _ water _ and the general good feeling of having Makoto at his side walking to the pool again that the voice goes a little quieter. Still there, but quieter.

“Makoto-senpai!” Kou exclaims excitedly, when they’re changed into their swimsuits and out by the pool. “You’re here today!”   
  
Makoto laughs. “I am. Sorry for missing out most of the week, and thank you for taking care of the team since I’ve been gone.”

“Hey, I’m the manager anyway, that’s what I do.” Kou waves off, but there’s a clear flush of pleasure and pride on her face at the praise. (Haru isn’t surprised. Makoto has a way of doing that.) And then it’s quickly replaced by a look of fierce determination, the kind that already has the rest of them shrinking back a little. “Well, to make up for it, you’re going to have to do EXTRA to catch up! Your stamina’s lacking, Makoto-senpai! Yours too, Nagisa-kun! Haruka-senpai, Rei-kun, both of you need to work on your starts! Everyone’s here today, so let’s give it our best!”

They answer her with an affirmative chorus despite how some of them pale at today’s regimen, and even Haru silently finds himself raising a fist with the rest of them, the unease in his stomach dissipating with the show of team spirit.

And the thing is, it starts out pretty good. They do their stretches together, warm up their muscles, work on flexibility. Kou’s rolled a magazine into a megaphone, and starts drilling. Rei’s already rattling off on the benefits of doing extra stretches for better arm movements in the water. It’s all comfortingly familiar, in a way Haru’s missed over the last few days, even as he tunes them out halfway through to dive into the water before the others are even done with their stretching.

The water is instantly soothing. It always has been. He submits himself to it, and in return it cradles him, hushes all sounds in his ears and the thoughts in his mind. The knowledge that his team — his friends, his  _ family _ — are with him makes it even more soothing. Like a night light in a dark room; gently illuminating, making his path that much easier to navigate. His arms cut across the water like a dream, and he doesn’t think of anything.

He’s done a few lazy laps as a warm up by the time he hears the muffled sound of water splash around him; the others are finally joining him in the water. He vaguely registers Nagisa’s pleased shout, and can hear the rhythmic chop of Rei starting his butterfly. Haru lets himself ease into a back float and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know how to describe it, but he’s always loved this feeling. The water, yes — but also all of them being in the water together. Connected by the same embrace, even if they’re swimming in different lanes.

He finally drops his feet and stands as he hears Makoto’s dive, heavy and powerful as he always is in the water. Haru knows the sound of that dive with his eyes closed. He knows it in his sleep. So he stands and leans against the side of the pool, watches his best friend begin his warmup laps. Drinks up the sight of him slicing through the water, commits it to memory, because he’s gone four days without it and that’s four days too many. It’s comforting. It’s good. Things are right with the world, and things are okay.

At least, until he sees Makoto abruptly slow and then stop, dropping his feet to stand halfway through a lap in the middle of the pool.

The unease in Haru’s gut suddenly flares louder. He frowns.

“Makoto-senpai?” Kou asks from over Haru’s shoulder, before he can say it himself. “Are you okay?”   
  
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Makoto replies, even though he’s clearly  _ not _ fine. His head is bowed and he’s panting, gripping onto the side of the pool buoys. “Just… stamina’s a little shot, you know? Hold on.”

Something cold grips Haru’s gut. Even Nagisa and Rei have finished their laps, and are now looking at Makoto in concern. Makoto, who’s ripped his goggles off of his head. Makoto, who’s breathing like he can’t catch his breath, even though he’s barely swam a lap. Makoto, who’s abruptly very,  _ very _ pale.

“Mako-chan?” Nagisa asks, worriedly.

“I’m okay, just hold on,” Makoto says between pants, brows furrowed as his grip tightens, “I’m alright. I just need a— I just need to catch, to catch my br— my breath—”

And then his eyes roll to the back of his head, and Haru feels his stomach sink as suddenly as his best friend does into the water.

“ _ MAKOTO! _ ”   
  


* * *

“Haru—”

“Don’t,” Haru hisses. Makoto snaps his mouth shut.

He knew he should’ve said something earlier. Should’ve spoken up, or should’ve at least bodily dragged Makoto back home after school instead of going for training. Instead he had to dive and grab his best friend before the idiot  _ drowned _ from fainting in the water and had to drag him back to the pool’s edge. (He’s already done that once before, and that was already more than he would ever want to do again in his life.) They’re lucky that Haru got to him before he could breathe in any of the water. Luckier still that their school’s vending machines sold energy drinks, and that Nagisa has a constant stock of snacks or at least something vaguely sugary in his schoolbag.

He should’ve said something, but he didn’t, and now he’s pulling Makoto back home with fury roiling ugly in his chest like an angry sea and he doesn’t know who he’s more pissed at — Makoto, or himself.

“... Haru-chan, I’m okay now,” Makoto tries again, helplessly stumbling after Haru with his wrist in Haru’s iron grip, “I’m sorry that I fainted like that, I—”

“— Don’t.  _ Don’t _ talk to me right now.” Haru snaps, glaring at Makoto until his mouth shuts and he looks away in shame. Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “And drop the -chan.”

He feels the muscles in Makoto’s arm relax a little, at that. It’s a relief, but only a minor one, and Haru’s still pissed. He doesn’t even  _ know _ the last time he felt this angry. He only knows that Nagisa and Rei both had to talk him down from physically hauling Makoto over his shoulders and tossing him into the showers to bathe the man himself. He just wanted to get Makoto showered and dressed and  _ home _ as soon as possible. He’s going to make Makoto rest even if he has to chain him to the fucking bed.

As expected, there’s nobody home in the Tachibana household when Haru unlocks the door and pulls it open one handed, his other hand still firmly gripped around Makoto’s wrist. It’s not the nice kind of quiet, but Haru’s grateful for the lack of distractions as he shuts the door and drags Makoto up the stairs, barely waiting for him to take off his shoes and leave them sloppily at the genkan.

When they reach the bedroom, Haru finally lets go of Makoto’s wrist to toss both their bags to the floor. Makoto makes an audible sound of distress at the treatment of his school supplies.

“Haru,” he says weakly, “Our textbooks—”

“No. Shut up,” Haru growls, “Get in bed and go to sleep.”

“But it’s not even sundown—”

“ _ Makoto. _ ” Haru says with finality, and Makoto finally acquiesces with a sigh. And then Haru sees him walk to his closet instead of his bed, and he finds himself tensing again, goes, “Makoto—”

“I’m just changing my clothes, Haru. Okay?” Makoto says, gentle and placating, like he’s talking to a stray kitten. Haru should feel insulted.

He doesn’t, though. He holds Makoto’s gaze for all of two beats before he finally looks away. Nods, and reigns in the urge to snap at Makoto until he’s firmly asleep in bed. He doubts that would work anyway, counterproductive as shouting is to sleeping. Instead he bends down to pick up the bags he’d thrown aside, and moves to lean them against the bedside table while Makoto changes.

The bed is made, but messily, Haru notes. It makes him frown again. Makoto’s about as neat as every other teenage boy, but he’s usually impeccable about the state of his bed, even on his worst days. He’s the eldest in the Tachibana household — he has to be a good example to the twins, or so he always says.

“... Have you been getting  _ any _ sleep?” Haru asks, straightening up. “Lately.”

There’s no answer for a moment, so Haru turns in time to see Makoto stalling by fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt. “... I mean, enough to get by—”

“How many hours.” It’s not a question.

Makoto visibly winces. “... Five? I think?”

Haru’s eyes widen. That’s not nearly enough time. Not for any student, and definitely not for an actively training athlete. The “I think” doesn’t inspire confidence either. Makoto evidently picks up what Haru is thinking, because he immediately starts holding his hands up in a surrendering move, stumbling over his words to explain himself.

“Ah— No, I mean, I don’t mean to do that on purpose! I just, you know, I pick up the twins and then it takes me awhile to make dinner because I’m not really very good at it, and then I have to help them study for their tests, and by the time they go to bed I need to study for  _ our _ tests so— Time just slips away from me a little, that’s all! By the time it’s morning I just wake up extra early to jog because I keep missing practice, and then I need to make breakfast and bento for us, so—”

He can’t hear anymore of this. He doesn’t know whether he’s angry or sad. “Makoto. Why didn’t you call me?”

Makoto stops mid-blabber, blinking at him. And then he slowly lowers his hands. Glances at the floor, a little sheepish. “Ah… Well. You’ve all been busy with training, and midterms are coming up. I couldn’t possibly make you guys come over and help me with stuff I should already know how to do, you know? Mom can’t keep making my lunches forever, and I’m the eldest sibling after all…”

“You wouldn’t have made us do anything. We would’ve wanted to. We  _ want _ to. You should’ve asked for help.” Haru’s nails are digging into his palm, with how hard he’s clenching them.

Makoto sighs. “It’s only for a week, and with midterms and training I couldn’t—”

“—You couldn’t ask  _ me _ ?” Haru mumbles, and Makoto’s mouth snaps shut.

He’s not looking at Makoto anymore. He’s staring at the floor instead, like figuring out the woodgrain will help calm the roiling sea in his chest. He doesn’t have the words for how it feels, he just doesn’t like it. It feels cold, and hot, and tight. It feels angry and sad and unhappy all rolled into one. (It feels like  _ hurt _ , because maybe Makoto wouldn’t want to bother Nagisa or Rei or Kou— but what about  _ him? _ Why wouldn’t he trust  _ Haru _ with this?)

Haruka’s used to silence — had to, once his parents left and his grandmother passed and he got used the sound of nothing but his own breathing in that big, empty house — but he doesn’t like the one between him and Makoto now. Then again, he hasn’t liked his silence in days. Maybe if he’d been less quiet about it, he would’ve stopped Makoto from pulling dumb shit like this. Maybe if he spoke up more about helping Makoto instead of, what, taking him for granted or something — maybe then Makoto would know Haru would drop anything for him. That Haru always would.

Makoto should’ve asked. But maybe Haru should’ve made it so Makoto wouldn’t have had to.

Firm warmth on his shoulder startles him back into looking up. Comes face to face with stunning green and a familiar smile, now sheepish and apologetic, but warm as it always is. Genuine, and sincere. Makoto’s hand slides down his arm and to his fists, where they slowly uncurl it. Presses fingers against the crescent indents where Haru’s nails have been digging, and Haru feels his arms relax.

“... I’m sorry.” Makoto says, in a different kind of soft voice. The kind he only uses when it’s from somewhere deep inside. The kind usually reserved just for Haru. “I know. I should’ve trusted you more.”

Haru furrows his brows. “It’s— It’s not about  _ me _ , I—”

“No! No, I know,” Makoto hurries to correct, “I mean, I should’ve trusted you,  _ all _ of you. I would’ve worried about all of you too, if I saw the same. And I should’ve at least told you.”

“We’re in this together,” Haru mumbles, casting his eyes lower. The coldness in his chest is dissipating, being replaced with a warmth that’s rising to his face. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s an improvement. “We always have been. We always will be.”

Haru only looks up when a few beats go by without a response. And he’s glad he does. Makoto’s eyes are wide, glittering in the evening sky, the sunset against his hair and nose and lips and his cheeks dusted pink. (It’s a good look on him.) Still though, he wants a response, so he tugs on Makoto’s hand which is still in his own, and internally smirks at the way Makoto jolts, stumbles, and then laughs a little. It’s the bright kind of laugh. Haru’s favourite.

“Yeah, we have. We will.” Makoto agrees, with an ease that makes Haru feel light again.

“At the very least, you could’ve asked me to help you cook something. I hope you didn’t feed those bentos to the twins.” Haru points out. Makoto pulls a face. 

“No! I swear, I made them something edible — but maybe not to the standards mom usually does…” He sighs. “I guess I was just being stubborn, huh?”

“And dumb. And stupid.” Haru adds on. “And an idiot.”

“Okay, okay, I get it, I already apologized!” Makoto laughs, half-exasperated but fully-amused, and Haru squeezes Makoto’s hand. Smiles a little at the way Makoto’s cheeks go pink again. 

And then the smile disappears as Makoto whips his head to the side, and sneezes like a shot horse. Haru’s free hand immediately moves up to clasp over Makoto’s forehead. 

“... Uh, Haru?”

“No fever,” Haru mutters quietly, before lowering his hand. “You should still go to sleep though. Before it gets there.”

The way Makoto’s mouth moves into a worried little frown ticks off something inside Haru again. Especially when he scratches his temple, starts going, “I mean, I would, but I need to get dinner ready and pick the twins up from their friend’s house—”

Haru lets go of Makoto’s hand, and then pinches the top of it. Makoto yelps.

“Go to  _ bed _ . I’ll pick the twins up later. And make dinner.” Haru states. It’s not a question, or a suggestion.

Makoto blinks. “But—”

Haru moves to pinch Makoto again, and this time Makoto holds his hands up and stumbles back towards the bed.

“Okay, okay! I’m going!” Makoto exclaims, and Haru sniffs in satisfaction. And then sighs when Makoto shyly asks again, “... Are you sure?”

Haru shoots him his most deadpan look, which is a feat, because it’s his most mastered facial expression. “Yes, I’m sure. I need to eat dinner too. I’ll just use your kitchen. Whose house?”

The fact that Makoto seems to immediately know what Haru’s talking about sets his mind at ease. “Ah, they’re at Ms Michiura’s place. The one near the y—”

“—The yakiniku place. Got it.” Haru says easily as Makoto sits on the bed. And then, gentler, “Sleep.”

Makoto’s eyes go soft, at that, like the sun setting over water. He crawls under his sheets, and Haru’s heart feels full. (It’s not an uncommon feeling around Makoto, but he’s missed it lately.) It’s immediately evident just how exhausted Makoto really is — just sliding into bed and his eyes seem to go heavier. Haruka walks over to the window to draw the curtains a little from the evening sun, and then heads over to the door to leave Makoto be. A little voice pipes up.

“Haru?” says Makoto from his bed, quiet and soft.

Haru turns. Makoto smiles.

“Thank you.”

When Haru closes the bedroom door, he realizes the ugly voice screaming at him earlier today is almost now entirely gone.

* * *

  
  
“Haru-nii, Haru-nii, you should have seen Uchida-san’s face when we surprised her with the cake! It was SOOO big and everyone got to sign it in icing!” Ran says happily, skipping cheerfully with one hand in Haru’s, swinging it back and forth. “It was so pretty, even if Ren made his name wibbly.”

He’s not sure if it’s the sugar or just because they haven’t seen him in a week, but it’s easier to pry the twins away from the birthday party than he thought it would be.

“Did not!” Ren argues meekly, from where he’s surgically attached to Haru’s side as Haru carries him. “It was fine!”

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“Was—”

“—So is that cake for Makoto?” Haru interrupts smoothly, because he’s been around the twins long enough to know that they could squabble for forever given the chance. He gestures instead at the little container in Ran’s other hand. Mrs Michiura had given it to them upon seeing Haru at the door, claiming that  _ there’s just so much cake, and you know how it is with kids and sugar! Here, have a little extra, you can share it with Makoto-kun or have it tomorrow, if you keep it sealed and in the fridge it can last the weekend _ — __

It’s a nice thought. Judging from how much Ran’s been swinging it though, he’ll be surprised if there’s anything resembling a cake in there left by the time they get home.

Ran’s face pinks a little. Haru’s willing to bet a mackerel that she’d been planning to have it for herself. “Um…”

“Where is onii-chan anyway?” Ren pipes up in Haru’s other arm. “Did… did he forget about us?”

Haru blinks, and then breathes out a little air of amusement. “No, he didn’t forget. He was just being dumb and overworked himself. He only slept after I promised to pick you both up.”

Ren’s lower lip wobbles. “... Is it because he’s been helping us so much? Did we make— did we make onii-chan sick?”

Haru’s brows furrow a little. “No, of course not—”

“Don’t be silly, Ren!” Ran helpfully interjects. “Haru-nii said onii-chan’s being dumb! Even grownups can be dumb sometimes you know! That’s why Haru-nii is here to help, right? Maybe he’ll even stay over!”

Ren relaxes a little at that, and Haru feels a small smile tug on the edge of his mouth. Ren has always reminded Haru of Makoto when Makoto was younger — mild-mannered, soft-spoken, and very gentle-hearted. If Ren’s anything like his older brother, it’ll take a couple of years before he starts growing into his spine and starts sticking up for himself. Though at this point he has a few good role models before him, so maybe he’ll pick it up faster.

Ran, however, reminds Haru of a young Nagisa. Loud, headstrong, and incredibly persistent. How  _ she’ll _ grow up is a thought that’s equally comforting and terrifying.

The twins have apparently eaten well enough during the birthday party, and since exam week is over Haru lets them run off and do their little kid things as soon as they get home on the condition they don’t wake their brother. It does bring up a bit of a problem with the food though, since Haru forgot and prepped enough for four before he went to fetch Ren and Ran. Oh well. He’ll figure something out. Worst case scenario he’ll just have to put some of the dry ingredients aside for tomorrow.

He’s halfway through grilling the salmon when he hears the house phone go off, followed by Ran’s shrill cry of  _ I’LL GET IT _ and the rapid pitter-patter of tiny feet. Then there’s the sound of a phone being yanked off the hook, and Ran’s surprisingly polite  _ Hello, Tachibana residence! _ Haru tunes it out after that — it’s probably one of her friends, or maybe a telemarketer. So long as he doesn’t hear her rummaging for things or opening the front door, he can focus on not overcooking the fish.

He gets about two minutes or so into that before the shrill “ _ HARU-NII DAD WANTS TO TALK TO YOU _ ” nearly makes him drop the whole thing on his own feet.

“—Yes hello?” Haru says, breathless, when he finally makes his way to the phone after turning off the stove and making  _ sure _ Ran doesn’t mess with them.

“ _ Haruka-kun! I hope you’re doing well. Is Makoto there with you? He hasn’t been picking up his phone. _ ”

Haru blinks. “Oh. He’s been asleep.” Pretty deeply too, if Ran’s scream hadn’t had him darting out of the room in wild-eyed panic. That’s… a relief, and a worry in itself. How tired must Makoto be to not even hear his phone?

“ _ Ahhh, I see, _ ” comes the reply, filled with that certain tone of parental understanding that Haru’s sure you can only unlock after raising your own children. “ _ He’s been tiring himself out, hasn’t he? _ ”

Got it in one. “Yes,” Haru replies instead, relieved over not having to explain. “He caught a bit of a cold.”

“ _ He was already working so hard before we left, I had a feeling he’d do this as soon as I heard that Keiko was taking the train to see her cousin. He works too hard, that boy. I’m glad he has someone like you to watch out for him. _ ” Haru can  _ hear _ the smile over the phone. It’s a patented Tachibana trait at this point. A superhuman Tachibana-mastered ability. “ _ Speaking of which  _ —  _ that’s why I’m calling, actually. _ ”

Haru’s brow furrows. “Is everything okay?”

A gentle chuckle. “ _ Ah, yes, nothing to worry about. Makoto’s aunt is doing just fine, but she’s still in the hospital and her husband can’t take anymore time off of work, so Keiko is going to be staying with her another week until things are more stable. I’ll be taking a flight directly to Tokyo to stay with her too instead of flying home, so at least they don’t have to stress too much while she recovers. We should both be back next Saturday though, if not earlier. _ ”

“I’ll tell Makoto,” Haru says.

“ _ Thank you, Haruka-kun. And thank you also for helping take care of Makoto  _ —  _ especially with midterms right around the corner and the tournament you’re all preparing for, he’s very lucky to have you around. _ ” The tone is warm, and genuinely grateful. Haru can’t help the happy little flush that comes to his cheeks, even if he’ll possibly deny it to his death. “ _ Please take care of yourself too, alright? You can’t afford to get sick either. _ ”

“Of course,” Haru replies, hopes his own gratitude is there in his voice. And then, after a beat, he voices out something he’s been thinking of since Ran brought it up earlier. “Actually…”

“ _ Hmm? _ ”

“... Can I stay over until you both get back?” Haru asks, hesitant. “I don’t want to intrude or anything, I just… with Makoto not feeling well, and the twins, and midterms…”

The words die the more he asks them, feeling an embarrassed heat go up his neck. It’s not his first time staying over, of course, but it’s usually with one of Makoto’s parents there, and even without it’s not for this long. He wants to help, but he doesn’t want to just invite himself over without permission, especially if he’s going to be using the family’s resources. It’s common courtesy to ask after all. (He just sucks at asking for, well. Anything.)

Fortunately for him, his discomfort doesn’t last long; Makoto’s father’s laugh echoes over the phone in a way that untightens the nerves in Haru’s chest within seconds.

“ _ You don’t even have to ask, Haruka-kun. You’ve been like a son to us for almost as long as Makoto has been. We should be thanking  _ you _ for taking care of our Makoto, and Ren and Ran too. At the very least they’ll eat better. _ ” Comes the earnest, happy reply. “ _ Feel free to use anything in the house as needed. Our home is your home too. Just please make sure that you don’t overwork yourself like our son has, okay? And call us if anything happens. _ ”

The smile on Haru’s mouth can’t be helped. He feels warm inside. “Yes, Uncle Tachibana.”

“ _ Just don’t throw any wild parties, you hear? _ ”

A snort. As if. “Yes, Uncle Tachibana.”

“ _ That’s all. Please tell Makoto to call myself and his mother once he feels better too, yes? Maybe tomorrow, since it’s getting late. Take care, Haruka-kun, and goodnight. _ ”

Haru puts the phone gently back in the receiver, a small weight he didn’t know he had lifted over his chest. The Tachibanas have always welcomed him into their home since he was small, but still. He doesn’t like to presume, with older people like them. He’s no stranger to being left behind (his parents, his grandmother,  _ Rin _ —) so. It’s reassuring, sometimes, to know that he always has someplace to turn to. A home to come back to.

( _ You’ve been like a son to us for almost as long as Makoto has been _ also sends a new feeling up his spine, as it has been recently, for reasons Haruka can’t ascertain. He’s fine with it though. It’s a scary, but good, feeling.)

He comes back to fish that is thankfully almost entirely cooked through, thanks to the residual heat of the pan throughout the phone call. He also comes back to two tiny, hungry faces peering over the table, mischievous and meek respectively.

“Haru-nii, um… Is there—” Ren starts, and is immediately interrupted by his sister’s “Haru-nii, can we eat too?”

“I thought you both were full a little earlier,” Haru replies, even though he’s already taking out plates for four. “If you eat too much you’ll get sick.”

“We know, but, the salmon smells  _ so good _ ,” Ren whines, and Haru feels a little jolt of pride at that.  _ Of course it’s good. I’m very good at making fish. _

Still though. If he finishes cooking and makes extra for Ren and Ran, he might as well use all the ingredients he’d prepared beforehand. It’ll be a lot, he doubts the twins will eat more than just some of the fish, but on the other hand…

“Hey,” Haru speaks up, eyes twinkling with an idea. “Want to help me make your big brother all better?”

* * *

  
  


“ _ Haru _ ,” comes a muffled groan from the tabletop, “I think I’m gonna explode.”

“Nonsense. Food is good for you, and you’re sick. You need to get better.” Haru replies, plain as oats, as he gathers the newly clean dishes to put in the rack. 

“Yes, but that was a  _ lot of food _ . And you used the twins to threaten me into it! That’s cruel.” Makoto whines, finally looking up. His forehead has a red blotch where it’d been resting on the table. “Now they know I’m ticklish and I’m going to regret it forever.”

Haru shrugs. “Amakata-sensei says all is fair in food and war.” Maybe she hadn’t meant  _ recruit the younger Tachibana siblings to drag their elder brother downstairs and force him to eat the feast before him under penalty of death by tickling _ . But, you know. It counts.

Makoto’s face moves into a smile then, moving to rest his chin on his large palm. “It’s love and war, Haru-chan, not food and war.”

Something about that makes something warm bloom in Haru’s chest. “Drop the -chan,” he says instead, to Makoto’s answering laughter. It’s the same laughter from earlier when Makoto saw the spread before him and commented  _ no mackerel? _ and Haru retorted with a  _ I can cook other things besides mackerel. … And your mom didn’t have any in the fridge _ . (It’s a good sound, one he didn’t realize he'd missed until it was gone for almost a week.)

“So mom and dad will be gone another week, huh? At least Auntie Kaori is doing better.” Makoto muses, changing the subject.

“Mm. Your dad says to call tomorrow, once you feel better.”

“I’m already feeling better though!” Makoto claims. “I guess I really did need more rest and a proper meal, huh? I’m feeling much better now though, so...”

Haru narrows his gaze at Makoto. “You’re not studying tonight.”

Makoto’s face falls immediately. Haru thanks every deity he does and doesn’t believe in that he’s had years to gain immunity to the also patented Tachibana puppy-dog eyes. Were he a lesser man he’d probably have thrown in the towel by now.

“But Haru, midterms are the week after next, I can’t slack now—”

“You keep falling asleep in class because you’re not feeling well,” Haru points out in a deadpan, “And you bother  _ me _ because you keep sneezing. What’s the point of studying if you won’t absorb anything anyway?”

Makoto opens his mouth to argue, and then closes it again, looking defeated. Haru watches on, triumphant.  _ Check and mate. _

“... Not even an hour?”

“No,” Haru says, and to make his point clearer, he starts shooing Makoto off the kitchen chair. “Upstairs. Medicine, then bed.”

Makoto puts up a few token attempts to argue, but he lets himself be nudged up the stairs and back to his own room all the same. While he finally relents and goes to the bathroom to wash up for bed, Haru takes the time to turn off the lights and lock the doors. The twins had stuffed themselves — what with the birthday party and then dinner after — and had almost immediately conked out right there at the kitchen table until Makoto gently nudged them to brush their teeth and go to bed, so Haru doesn’t need to check on them (though he does anyway, and they’re asleep like logs. Also still in their daytime clothes, but Haru figures it isn’t a big deal right now.)

He has half a mind to run home as he’s latching the front door. He’d only brought one change of clothes, which is the one he’s already wearing, and tomorrow’s uniform. Now that he’s staying a whole other week though, he should probably get more clothes. Or at least his school uniform. He can wear Makoto’s clothes at home just fine, but he probably can’t get away with borrowing his school uniform too unless he wants to come to school looking like a set of baggy drapes. (Also: mackerel. There’s mackerel in his freezer. He should bring that over as soon as possible.)

In the end he figures he’ll just get them tomorrow on his way back from school, and settles to grab the cold medicine, going upstairs instead to check on his best friend. 

His best friend who had, evidently, assumed Haru would be elsewhere, and was in the process of opening up his schoolbag to dig out textbooks.

“Makoto,” Haru says sharply, and watches his best friend jump nearly a foot in the air.

“Haru!” Makoto squeaks, turning around, looking far too small for a man his size. “I thought you’d be going home to get your things, since you’re staying the week—”

Haruka sighs. “Get in bed, Makoto. Or I’m running the bath and throwing your books in.”

Makoto drops his bag like hot potatoes, probably because he knows Haru would make good with that threat. (He will, and he’ll get in the bath with them too. Just to really drive it in.) He takes the medicine and water Haru passes over without any argument, at least, and puts them on the bedside table neatly. He doesn’t even raise a question about the fact Haru purposely picked out the drowsy kind of cold medicine. It’s a good sign, or at least a sign that Makoto’s given up on fighting Haru about all this.

“I’m assuming you’re banning me from going to school tomorrow too?” Makoto asks, resigned, sitting down on the bed and sneezing a little into his palm.

“Yup,” Haru answers easily. “You’re sick. You can go again on Monday when you look less like death.”

“Then shouldn’t I get some studying in now, since I’ll be missing half a day of lessons tomorr—”

“Nope. Sleep now,” Haru cuts off, and shuts the lights. The room goes into a comfortable dark, illuminated only by the moon that peeks in through the sheer curtains — Makoto’s never been a fan of the pitch black night, so heavy curtains have been a no-go since forever — and there’s only the sound of the ceiling fan, the waves crashing outside, and the rustling of Makoto crawling into bed.

Haru takes his time to pad to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and using the toilet and washing his hands. By the time he comes back to the bedroom, Makoto’s breathing has already evened out. Slow, peaceful.

_ Guess the medicine and a full stomach worked faster than expected, _ Haru thinks as he opens up the closet that holds the futon. And then,  _ uh oh. _

“Makoto?” Haru calls softly, turning to look over his shoulder. If Makoto’s deeply asleep, he’ll just make do, but.

“Hmmh?” comes the sleepy response. “What’s wrong, Haru?”

“Where’s your futon?”

“The futon?” There’s a creak as Makoto shifts to lean on his elbow, rubbing his eyes. And then Haru watches them abruptly go wide. “Oh, shoot! I’m sorry, I remember I pulled it over to the twins’ room when I stayed up to help them study for math, it’s probably still there— Um, you can take my bed! I’ll go sleep on the c—”

“Not happening,” Haru cuts off flatly. “No one’s sleeping on the couch. It’s too small for either of us.”

Makoto deflates. “You’re not sleeping on the floor, Haru— and you’re  _ not _ sleeping in the bathtub again either! That’s how  _ you _ caught a cold last summer.”

Well, there goes that plan. Haru ponders in front of the empty cabinet for a moment, figuring out a way for him to pull the futon out of the twins’ room without waking both of them up, maybe if he—

Oh.

Actually.

“Makoto,” Haru says, shutting the closet door, “Scoot over.”

Makoto blinks, and then realization fills his eyes. Haru can hear him swallow from here. “Oh— Really?”

Haru fights the urge to frown. He knows it’s been awhile, but… “You don’t want to?”

It’s a genuine question. If Makoto says no for any reason, Haru will leave it be, try and figure out some way to sneak into the twins’ room and steal the spare futon out. But it’s not like they haven’t done this before. They’ve just stopped over the last few years, because teenage boys going through growth spurts and a single bed usually don’t mix. But it shouldn’t be awkward. They grew up around each other after all. It’s just been awhile.

Or at least, that’s what Haru tells himself as his pulse starts speeding up for no reason, when Makoto audibly shifts in the bed and makes room for Haru. Makes space that shouldn’t exist, not for a boy of Makoto’s size. But he does, and Haru wordlessly slips into the sheets, the warmth of the occupied bed seeming to thrum from the mattress directly up Haru’s spine and into his face, for whatever reason.

Immediately, a million tiny, inconsequential thoughts run through Haru’s mind: the pillow carrying the scent of Makoto’s favourite shampoo and chlorine and musky sweat; Makoto’s favourite spring green comforter around his shoulders in a way that hasn’t been for years; Makoto’s body heat seeming to radiate off of him even though he doesn’t have a fever; Makoto’s legs, muscled and firm and knocked against his own because there’s just no space; Makoto’s eyes, glimmering in the moonlight; Makoto’s mouth, curved in a gentle  _ ‘o’ _ ; Makoto, Makoto, Makoto.

Instead of focusing on any of it though, Haru says, “Don’t push me off.”

Haru watches Makoto’s eyes go wide, and his mouth curve into familiar, relieving laughter. “I’ll try my best.”

“And don’t try to sneak up to study either,” Haru warns, because he knows he usually sleeps like a log and Makoto takes advantage of that sometimes, “I’ll feel it.”

“Oh, so that’s the ulterior motive behind all this? You don’t trust me?” Makoto says, but his voice is all smiles, all amusement. No actual insecurities, because he knows where Haru’s trust lies.

Haru snorts, and nestles further into the pillow, pulls the comforter up to his chin. Breathes in the scent of long forgotten summer days, right here in Makoto’s bedroom, when they were both smaller and there was more space. (Thinks idly, in the very back of his mind — _after all this time,_ _we still fit together._ )

“Go to sleep, Makoto.” Haru says in the end, and closes his eyes to Makoto’s soft laughter.

* * *

Haru wakes the first time to the feeling of warmth, and tinkling bells. His head and body feel comfortably heavy. He’s warm. All of him is warmed. He’s curled up in it, buried under it, surrounded by it. Something solid and stable and  _ safe _ wrapped around him, legs tangled around…  _ something _ , though he’s too sleepy to think about  _ what _ . It feels good though. Feels familiar, and new, and right.

The sound of the bells is getting louder though. It’s pissing Haru off.

He barely registers anything when he pries his gummy eyes open. The room is dark and hazy, only a little light coming through. There’s something vibrating next to his head. He turns, blindly grasps with one arm for whatever it is, and manages to grab something he can just barely have the presence of mind to think  _ phone _ . The screen shows the numbers  _ 5:03 A.M. _ , and Haru is ticked off about it, even though he doesn’t remember why.

It doesn’t matter. He’s too sleepy to think about it, brain foggy and body too comfortable to care. Muscle memory flips the phone open with one hand, and then he’s just blindly pressing buttons until the thing stops making noise. And then he’s clicking it shut, shoving the phone under the pillow so it won’t wake them even if it goes off again. Turns back to get comfortable. Buries back into the warmth, shifting so the soft thing drapes over his shoulders and the firm thing drapes over his hip again, and his face nestles back to where it was before: against something stable, solid, warm, rising and falling, slightly scratchy and well-worn cotton against his nose.  _ Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump _ , subtle and soothing to his ears.

Haru thinks  _ home _ , thinks  _ safe _ , thinks  _ Makoto _ , and then thinks —  _ sleep _ .   
  
  


* * *

Wind chimes. A buzzing, right next to his head. The ocean waves breaking, distant but present.

Haru wakes for the second time, and nearly blinds himself with the morning sun.

He squeezes his eyes shut again immediately. Turns his head to the side and frowns to himself, trying to turn over onto his stomach so he can bury his face into the pillow, but something’s stopping him. Something wrapped around his middle, and settled against his knees, and tucked under his chin.

_ Makoto _ , his brain supplies helpfully, and Haru dares to open his eyes.

The thin curtains are good for keeping the room softly lit at night, but it means that daybreak holds no mercy. Haru’s eyes sting from sunlight and sticks from sleep, but he manages somehow. Blearily, he wakes, slowly but surely — he breathes in deep and exhales slow. His eyes adjust. Vision gradually clearing so he can see the ceiling fan spin, the dust motes in the air, the bookshelf and desk and the calendar on the wall. The sunlight, pale and watery and golden-soft like melted butter, spilling through the windows, quietly radiant.

… Haru’s not used to seeing it, he realizes. Hasn’t seen it in years. These days he’s usually sleeping on the floor with the futon whenever he stays over, and by morning has his face buried under his blanket, tucked against the corner nudged by the bed where the sun can’t get him. He usually doesn’t wake until his alarm rings. Or at least until Makoto wakes up and gently drags him into the land of the living by force.

Not this time, though. 

This time, it’s Haruka who’s awake first, blinking awake in the morning light. This time, it’s Makoto who’s clinging to sleep, burying his face in the crook of Haru’s neck. He can feel every breath, count every sigh of an exhale. Makoto’s hair tickles his chin.

The abrupt realization of it makes something swoop in Haru’s stomach. Makes his pulse go a little faster, and he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s just because he hasn’t seen this in years. Not since Makoto was small enough to still fit in Haru’s clothes and vice versa. Not since Makoto was still fresh in his fears of the ocean, and peer pressured into watching horror movies for the first time. 

Those times, they’d be on the same bed or have their futons nudged together, and when the lights went off Haru would inevitably find Makoto inching closer and closer to Haruka until they were touching, in some way or form. Sometimes Haru would hold his hand, sometimes they’d be nudged shoulder to shoulder, sometimes Makoto would be satisfied with just clutching Haru’s shirt in small, grubby fists. Either way, Haru’d wake in the morning to his best friend wrapped around him like a koala, drooling onto his shirt, free of fear.

That hasn’t happened in at least five years though. But it’s happening again, and Haru finds himself breathless, marvelling and staring in wonder — at the changes, and the lack thereof.

Makoto’s hair is still choppy, bedhead messy beyond compare, the brown tinged almost green in the morning light — but Haru hasn’t seen this view in a long time, not since Makoto’s grown into someone who Haru has to look  _ up _ at. He hasn’t seen the top of Makoto’s head like this in awhile. In a way, it’s still the same — still soft and unkempt where it’s tucked under Haruka’s chin and tickling his nose, even though yesterday he’d barely washed it beyond sluicing his body off with water and bar soap in the school showers after Haru threw him in there impatiently. (It still smells like chlorine, like water. Haru doesn’t know why his face feels so warm, associating that and Makoto together.)

And Makoto still clings to him, gentle and firm both. Young Makoto would find a way to wrap both his arms and legs around Haru’s torso, like a sloth hanging on for dear life, except in his sleep. Young Haru in turn grew to expect the feeling of weight and warmth across his chest. Little hands clinging to the sides of his shirt that made getting out of bed without waking his best friend impossible. (At one point, eleven-year-old Haru dreamt of drowning and choking, and woke up to find Makoto’s whole arm resting on his neck and making it hard to breathe. Haru was pretty mad. Makoto spent the whole day apologizing for it.)

Now, though. Now, Makoto’s so  _ big _ . Haru’s known that for ages, of course — it’s impossible to know Makoto and not think about how tall he is, how broad his shoulders, he’s been one of the tallest guys in school since junior high — but Haru’s never had the chance to think about that and  _ this _ in the same light until now. Now, Makoto can’t bodily cling to Haru’s torso anymore, but he can and  _ does _ have his arms wrapped around Haru’s waist. Draped loosely around Haru, but almost protective, possessive, clearly still  _ holding _ , and Haru wonders why the curves of his biceps seem more defined here in the delicate morning sun than it ever has at the pool. His legs are too long now to bend and wrap around Haru’s upper body without causing some serious bodily discomfort, but they  _ are _ tangled with Haru’s; thigh to thigh, knee to knee, sharp ankles against cold toes.

Also: Makoto still drools. The collar of Haru’s t-shirt is damp with it. 

He doesn’t know why that makes him feel as warm as he does, something in his chest unfurling.

… Speaking of warmth though, it’s getting  _ really _ warm in here. The morning sun’s in the room, Makoto’s a living space heater, and the comforter is trapping all of it between them. It’s downright balmy under the covers. Haru feels a little clammy, knows his shirt is sticking to his skin, sweat prickling at the back of his neck and the small of his spine and all the places where Makoto’s touching him, skin to skin. He doesn’t know what’s the bigger testament to Makoto’s exhaustion: the fact he hasn’t woken to the initial alarm, to the heat, or to the steadily climbing rate of Haru’s pulse against Makoto’s ear. 

Still. Despite all that, Haru doesn’t feel like moving. He can feel a bead of sweat trickle down behind his ear, but he doesn’t want to get out of bed. Doesn’t even want to risk pushing the covers down, because there’s something… new, rare, about all of this. Seeing  _ Makoto _ like this. Familiar and new all at once. He wishes he had words, if only so he could explain it to himself, but there’s a frustrating lack of it beyond the fact he just wants to keep lying here, watching the rise and fall of Makoto’s breathing, feeling out the strange newness of every point of contact between them.

The sound of Haruka’s default wind chime alarm tone forces him out of it though, and Haru sighs to himself, before forcing himself to sit up against his will. Given the choice, he’d prefer to just stay here all day. Maybe try and figure out why he’s feeling like this. Or maybe just go back to sleep. But he knows if he did he’d get an earful from Makoto, who’d be upset that Haru skipped school because of him, and Haru doesn’t want that.

So up he gets, stretching as he does, feeling his joints pop and cooler air as the blanket slides down. Makoto seems to stir for a moment; he shifts, curling his legs up a bit, his throat makes a little noise, small and petulant — and then his arms wrap just a little tighter around Haru’s waist, and the room is suddenly  _ much _ warmer. Where Haru’s shirt had ridden up in the stretch, he can feel every inch of Makoto’s forearms, strong and solid and warm against the bare skin of Haru’s stomach. Where Makoto’s knuckles rest on Haru’s side, his hip; it feels like electricity racing up his spine at every point of contact.

All the while, Makoto’s dead asleep. Lashes shut and barely fluttering, mouth  _ still _ drooling.

Haru’s staring, and his chest bursts into a hurricane of dandelion fluff.

He looks away just as suddenly. He can’t,  _ cannot _ look down at Makoto’s face. His own feels too hot, and his mouth is trembling, hurts with the urge to smile like an idiot and he has no idea why. He has to press the back of his hand to it to stop it, and even that barely works.

In the end, Haru has to forgo his usual bath for a quick shower, just so he has enough time to cook and get to school. He leaves breakfast on the table for the Tachibana siblings to eat when they’re up — Haru’s already reset Makoto’s alarm for a more reasonable time, and if not he’s sure Ran and Ren will jump on him like a trampoline until he’s awake — and has to settle for a piece of toast as he’s putting on his shoes and heading out the door.

He also takes his cellphone to school with him today, even though he usually doesn’t. Just in case Makoto needs something from him while he’s gone.

(And if there’s a new picture in his phone gallery, of mussed brown hair and a peaceful drooling face and strong arms wrapped around someone’s waist — that’s just something extra.)

* * *

He shows up only 15 minutes late with crumbs sticking to the front of his shirt. When he explains Makoto’s absence from class, Amakata-sensei only responds with a look of visible relief — grateful, probably, that she wouldn’t have to haul him down to the nurse’s office herself.

Class is boring without Makoto. It always is, but doubly so because Haru is actually trying to pay attention this time. He wouldn’t really bother, normally — why write notes when everything you need to know is in the textbook? — but Makoto’s not here today, and he was concerned about missing out on lessons so close to midterms, so Haru takes down notes for him. Writes it large and neat even, so Makoto doesn’t have to strain his already shitty eyes at Haru’s normally smaller handwriting. Haru thinks he catches a teacher or two looking at him in disbelief for paying attention for once, but he really couldn’t care less about what they think.

His phone buzzes sometime during Literature class. When he opens it, it’s to a picture of the twins fighting over strawberry jam, and a blurred Makoto smiling at the camera. The following text says  _ ‘Thank you for breakfast, have a good day at school!’ _

Haru doesn’t smile and doesn’t reply, but he feels lighter for the rest of the morning.

Nothing else interesting happens in school besides that. People talk, teachers lecture. Haruka pays just enough attention to scrawl down whatever seems important and then spends the rest of the time doodling dolphins onto the corners of the notes. He daydreams through the last period of the day and nearly misses the bell, too used to Makoto telling him when class is over, and then gets up to find Kou.

“— Oh, of course! It’s no problem,” Kou replies, after Haru catches her in the hallway and tells her that he and Makoto’ll be absent from practice today. And then she fidgets a little. Ducks her head down, and then gives a little bow, eyes squeezed shut. “Please tell Makoto-senpai that I’m sorry for pushing him so hard the other day! I didn’t mean to make him faint! Send him my well wishes!”

Haru blinks, and then kind of. Gestures so she stands back up. “No, you don’t need to apologize. Makoto did that to himself.”

She straightens, but still looks down. “Still… I’m the manager, I should’ve noticed the signs and spoken up about it. All I could think about was—”

“—Making sure we’re at our best. That’s your job. You do it well.” Haru finishes for her. When her head snaps up to stare at him, he finds himself looking away. “... I didn’t speak up either. But it’s Makoto’s fault for overworking himself. That’s all.”

He doesn’t say anything beyond that, but she must read something in it that he can’t seem to find, because when he glances back at her she’s smiling at him. Infuriatingly content, like she knows something he doesn’t, especially when she says “Well then, Haruka-senpai, it’s lucky that Makoto-senpai has you to help him get back on his feet. I’ll tell Rei and Nagisa where you both are. Tell him to get better soon, okay?”

He doesn’t reply, but he nods, and wonders why his cheeks feel flushed as he walks away to her waving call of  _ study hard for midterms! Rest well for the weekend! _ It only goes away when he leaves the school gates and feels the empty space beside him acutely, for the fifth time this week. He doesn’t like the feeling. But if anything, it only makes him more determined to make sure Makoto gets better over the weekend so he can be by Haru’s side again on Monday. That’s how things are  _ supposed _ to be, and if time won’t fix things then Haru will fix it himself.

It’s how he finds himself taking a detour to the grocery store instead of walking immediately back, and it’s why he arrives at the Tachibana household over an hour later than expected, with not only his things but also a bag of ingredients brought both from home and freshly bought (mackerel included.) It dug a bit into his allowance, but then again, he’ll be eating it too, so. (And it’s not like he goes out and spends on anything else anyway.)

It’s not the first time he’s shown up to Makoto’s door on his own. He’s done it so many times over the last almost-two decades that he’s lost count. He’s almost as familiar with this doorway as he is with his own. But it still feels different this time — and not in a bad way.

As he opens the front door and steps inside and opens his mouth to say  _ I’m here _ , he pauses a little in his tracks. Because Ran is laughing and running with ribbons in her hands like a dancer, and Ren is squealing with delight where he’s being hauled over a strong shoulder like a tiny potato sack.  _ Makoto’s _ shoulder, because Makoto is between both of them, chasing after Ran with Ren sprawled over his back, mouth open in laughing delight, glasses perched over his nose and hair still in a mess and looking wholly, entirely  _ happy _ .

Haru doesn’t realize the small smile that’s bloomed on his mouth until Makoto looks up to see him. And then he forgets to breathe when Makoto’s own lips curve into a familiar smile, one that’s gentle, and fond, and  _ special _ , and he says,

“Welcome home, Haru.”

Haru’s own  _ I’m here _ dies before it ever reaches his tongue. But then it reforms, resurrects, and his face is as warm as a sunset as he quietly murmurs, “... I’m home.”

A thousand butterflies swoop in his belly in the 0.2 seconds of the exchange, and then promptly gets swept away as Ran tackles him  _ in _ the belly, welcoming him back in her own cheer of delight. Makoto nearly screams when Ren kicks to try and get down faster to greet Haru, and then there’s more shouts as Haru gets tackled by children and Makoto has to pry them off with all the strength his years of backstroke has trained him for. 

The Tachibana household is as lively as ever, filled to every corner with the sound of laughter and light and company in a way that Haru’s home hasn’t been in years. And when Makoto’s face  _ brightens _ up like the sun when Haru says  _ I’m making green curry for dinner _ , Haru thinks that maybe his heart is full, too.

He’s been here a million times, eaten here a million times, cooked here a million times. But it’s different, somehow — it’s the same as it’s ever been, but  _ more _ . It’s every good feeling, every bit of warmth and happiness and little glow inside his chest he has when he’s with Makoto, but amplified. It’s the same contentedness as it always has been as Makoto chatters beside him while he cooks, but after a week without Makoto at his side, he feels his presence more now than ever before. It’s the same laugh Makoto’s always had that makes Haru feel more at ease than any words do, but this time Haru can’t stop looking at his mouth. It’s the same way Makoto says his name,  _ Ha _ —ru, beginning with a sigh and ending with a smile, that makes Haru feel like he’s right where he’s supposed to be — only this time, he realizes he doesn’t  _ want _ to be anywhere else anyway.

It should be surprising, but it’s not. It’s not a revelation either. Because while Haru lets the curry simmer, listens to Ran and Ren talk about school, hears Makoto’s pleasantly surprised  _ Haru! _ at finding the notes written for him — Haru thinks, it’s always been here. It’s a feeling he’s always had. It’s just only now something he’s noticed, in the same way one would notice a chalk duster in a classroom after studying there for months, or noticing a flower patch on a well-walked route. He doesn’t really care to find out what it is or what it means right now. He just knows he feels good, and he wants to keep it that way.

So he lets it seep in. Lets it fill him, the way he lets the water embrace him, as he puts the curry on the table and watches Makoto lay out the plates. Doesn’t fight it or think too hard on it as Makoto talks about his day — studying in the afternoon, making a successful simple lunch for himself and the twins, calling up his parents and catching up — and makes a sound of pleasure at his first spoonful of curry. Haru just lets it wash over him. Like the wind, or the tide. Just lets the warm glow in his chest fill out to the tips of his fingers as the twins argue over the last potato, as he fills Makoto in on the small details of the half-day he’s missed at school and the message from Kou, as they wash up the dishes together side by side at the sink.

They play with the twins for awhile, watch TV for awhile, and then study together. They close their books before the night gets too late (thanks to Haru, mostly, because he knows Makoto would go cross-eyed studying before he thinks to take a break) and put the twins to bed. Makoto cleans up in the bathroom, and then takes his medicine while Haru brushes his teeth. This part feels the same as always. It’s routine. It’s mundane, but strangely contented.

They’ve done this a million times before. It’s just…  _ more _ , now. And as Haru walks back to the bedroom and decides, in a second’s thought, to walk right past the closet containing the now-rescued futon and to climb into Makoto’s bed instead—

He thinks about water, and he thinks about change, and he thinks about feelings. He thinks about how you can’t fight any of them. How to submit to them instead; to let them glide over you, around you, become one with you, to feel with your skin and eyes and heart and soul.

He thinks about all of it, all while he watches Makoto, gently lit by the moonlight, eyes wide as Haru makes his way over — and then smiling, shifting, making room for Haru where there isn’t supposed to be any. He thinks about all of it as he crawls in, shivers with the remnant  _ warmth _ , head sinking into the pillow. He thinks about all of it as Makoto draws the covers up to both their shoulders and whispers  _ goodnight, Haru-chan, _ eyes twinkling brighter than any star Haru’s ever seen.

He thinks about water, and change, and feelings, and he thinks about diving in.

* * *

It becomes routine over the next week. They wake up together, but not too early, and make breakfast and bentos. They eat with the twins, and then everyone heads off to school. The others are happy to have Makoto back and looking much better, and they’re back to eating proper meals together on the rooftop because Haru makes sure the bento they prepare in the morning makes up for all the meals Makoto’s skipped over the last week. Classes go on, school ends, they both pick up the twins, and because swim practice is off for the week before and of midterms, they go straight home together. They study a little, cook dinner, eat dinner, hang out, tuck the twins to bed, study some more, and then crawl into bed to sleep.

Sometimes they do other things too, of course. Like on Monday afternoon, where everyone’s both eager to spend time with Makoto but also panicking over midterms. The time usually spent in the pool is spent at Haruka’s house instead, the five of them gathered around the table and spending more time chattering about the things Makoto’s missed over the week than actually studying. On Wednesday afternoon they do the same thing, except in the school library instead, which doesn’t actually curb the chatter much despite the different place. 

There’s a view of the pool from the library. Haru finds himself not missing it as much as he thought he would, not when there’s a familiar warmth at his side, laughing silently behind a math textbook.

It’s why despite how good it feels to have everyone together again, Haru still likes it best when it’s just the two of them — just him and Makoto. It’s nice to spend time around the team, having lunch together on the roof or grabbing ice cream on the walk home, but Haru likes it best when it’s him and Makoto and nothing at all but the routine. Nothing but the ordinary. That’s one of the things he discovers over the week, really — another one of those not-so-revelations, another one of those things he’s known all along but never really took notice of until now, and it’s this:

Often, daily life is mundane.

Haru  _ really _ likes the mundane, when it’s with Makoto.

He’s known for awhile, obviously. Anyone with half a brain would know that Makoto’s the person Haru’s most comfortable around, period, maybe second only to Haru’s late grandmother. It certainly doesn’t discount all the years spent together, all the nights slept over and the mornings waking up to familiar bedhead and Makoto whining at him to  _ get up already, Haru, it’s almost 11! We were supposed to go jogging! _

But maybe it’s just… the continuity of the routine. Maybe it’s because it’s almost only just the two of them, side by side for an entire week. Maybe it’s because of Makoto’s absence in the last week, maybe it’s because they’re sharing the same bed for once in years, but.

Haru really likes it, he finds, more than he ever thought he really did until he stopped to realize it. The ordinariness of brushing their teeth together side by side, the shoulders brushed against each other as Haru teaches Makoto basic cooking tips over breakfast they make together. The sharp ankles knocking playfully under the table, the fingertips passing jam and butter over the table, the coming back to the same door, the same home, every single day. Of crawling into the same bed together, fitting each other in spaces that by all rights shouldn’t be there, every single night.

It’s all things they’ve done for so long, but  _ more _ . But new, even with how familiar it all is. Like a chair that’s always been in the same place in the hallway for years and years, but someone’s come and nudged it a couple of inches off from where it is used to be, and now you can’t help but notice the patterns in the fabric, or the grain of the wood. It’s the mundane things, the things so ordinary and boring and  _ always _ , painted in new light. The little things Haru’s overlooked for years, like how Makoto clings to things in his sleep or how he likes his coffee with extra sugar in the morning —

But now, Haru catalogues new things about them. Like how Makoto’s knuckles feel grazed against the bare skin of Haru’s stomach in the mornings. Or how Makoto always peeks his tongue out to taste the coffee brought to his mouth before he sips on it.

The fact Makoto likes to wash the cutlery last in the sink is something Haru’s known for years, but he’s only just noticed how Makoto’s forearms look with soap suds on them. Makoto’s always had a habit of tapping his pen on the table while he studies, but the way he idly bites his lower lip when he’s truly stuck is something new. Being clumsy when groggy with sleep is something Makoto’s always been guilty of, but now Haru gets to stifle his laugh whenever Makoto accidentally jostles him geting up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and inevitably stubs his toe or bangs his elbow against the doorframe on the way out.

And then there are things that are truly new, too. Things Haru doesn’t recall ever noticing before. Like how Makoto looks at him when he thinks Haru isn’t looking, soft in a way that makes Haru’s stomach burst into a fluttering frenzy. Like how Makoto’s hands always linger on Haru’s skin when they first wake in the morning, fingers seeming to almost drag lazily across Haru’s hipbone before they leave his body entirely, a line of sparks and honey in their wake. Like how Haru smiles more when no one’s around to notice it but Makoto, and how Makoto’s cheeks turn pink and delighted every single time.

The warmth in his belly, the blooming in his chest. The way Makoto is the first thing he sees in the morning, the last thing at night. They’re all truly new, Haru thinks — but if they are, then why do they feel so comfortable? Why do they feel  _ right _ , like it’s always been? New things are usually scary, unfamiliar. But this isn’t scary at all. This feels like things are as they should be. This feels like a well-loved blanket, now freshly washed and dried and warm. This feels like diving into a summer ocean and feeling the new tide like an old skin.

(Grandma always used to say,  _ when you’re 20, you become an ordinary person _ .

Haru has always wanted to be ordinary.

Now, though — now he wonders if Makoto would like to be ordinary  _ with _ him.)

Haru wonders. Thinks. He’s not great at words, but he knows there’s words for this, if he could find it. He wonders if he even  _ should _ . Things are so good as they are already — they’re getting so used to this, Makoto and him. They’re getting used to each other being the first and last thing they see everyday. Eating together, going to school together, coming  _ home _ together. Makoto doesn’t even ask about the spare futon anymore; they just slip under the covers together, sharing warmth like they’ve shared everything else in their lives. Things are good. Why change the routine?

Then Friday comes, and there’s the sound of a key unlocking in the front door right as Haru’s about to make dinner. There’s the sound of rapid footsteps, and then the happy squeals of Ran and Ren going  _ Mom! Dad! You’re home! _

Makoto flashes Haru a look he can’t decipher, too surprised to move, and then goes to greet his parents.

This is as it should be. As things have always been. Things are now  _ truly _ back to normal, as they were before this week, as they have been for the last seventeen years. It’s the same old, same old.

The unhappy drop in his stomach is something new though.

Haru thinks he hates this not-so-revelation.

* * *

Midterms come almost as an afterthought. 

Which isn’t to say that Haru doesn’t take it seriously. He does. He just… also doesn’t care as much as he probably should. He doesn’t struggle too much on the pages, doesn’t leave any blank spaces, but he doesn’t think to try too hard on being any kind of impressive either. He’s got a good enough head for these things. He probably did okay. Just maybe not as good as he could have. He’s more distracted than he should be during an exam week.

The worst part, probably, is that he  _ knows _ why he’s distracted. He knows what’s missing, and it’s the boy who’s sitting right back at his side, staring holes into his exam sheet like it’ll make his English suddenly more than passable.

Which is dumb. Haru  _ knows _ it’s dumb. Because things are back to normal, back to how they were, how they  _ should _ be. Makoto is back at his side again, and their routine goes back to how it used to be — Makoto’s hand around his in the morning to yank out of the bathtub, Makoto sighing as Haru makes his breakfast mackerel, Makoto walking besides him as they get to school.

It’s just that, though. Things are back to  _ normal _ , and that’s exactly the problem, and exactly why it’s so frustrating for Haru all of a sudden. They walk home together side by side, but this time, Haru doesn’t get to follow Makoto back to the Tachibana household and say  _ we’re home _ . This time, they do what they always do: they part ways when they reach their neighbourhood, and Makoto waves goodbye as Haru walks away.

It hurts. He doesn’t know why it hurts now, more than it ever has before — or at least more  _ amplified _ than it ever has before — but it does. Frustratingly so. Enough that even though Makoto gives him another one of those  _ looks _ , the kind that lingers, the kind that makes Haru’s stomach prickle and his heart give a questioning little skip, he can’t look at it. It hurts too much and he doesn’t know why and so he always turns away first and walks back home —

(When did normal routine switch so rapidly from something wanted to something dreaded?)

— And it’s  _ worse _ , because home suddenly feels lonelier than ever. There’s a very fine layer of dust from no one being home for a week. The walls seem to echo louder than before. When Haru’s mouth moves to say  _ I’m home _ , it dies in his throat before it ever comes out, because he remembers that there’s no one to say it to. No one to listen. It’s almost as bad as the first time his parents finally left him on his own to move back to the big city after grandmother passed. Not as sad, not as tragic, but… some quiet sort of empty, all the same. 

It feels like the polar opposite of whatever he felt at Makoto’s. A loneliness he’s used to, but  _ more _ somehow. The table more empty, the kitchen darker. Haru makes two cups of coffee his first night home and remembers that there’s no one else to drink the second cup, before downing both and spending far too long trying to get to sleep that night. The bed feels colder, and Haru sleeps curled up where Makoto’s not there to provide the warmth. (At one point he wraps his own arm around his stomach, and the sheer wrongness of it makes him sleep on his front.)

Maybe all the missing comes from being so close for days on end, and now having to be apart for days too. They can’t hang out because of midterms, not when he knows Makoto needs to study and focus, and there’s no practice after school either so there’s no reason to stay longer. All the time they have together is the time they have side by side in the morning walk to school, in classes together, during lunch, and the walk back. All the time they had before, but the new light’s making it feel like molasses. All these inches between them they’ve had for forever, that Haru suddenly desperately wants to close just so things feel  _ right _ again, as good and comfortable as he now knows they could be.

(He knows he’s whining. He doesn’t know  _ why _ he’s whining, which is the frustrating part. He wishes he could be like Makoto, or even like Nagisa or Rei — someone,  _ anyone _ , who’s better at words, who could better understand and describe why things feel so weird right now. Why it feels like he’s been missing out on something that’s been in front of him for so long, and now that he’s realized it, it’s been yanked out of his reach. Like a man who’s always been starving realizing there’s been food in front of him, and having it abruptly held just out of grasp.

Haru feels things more than he says things, but even he has to admit words make things easier sometimes. Now he just feels as emotionally constipated as Rin.  _ That’s _ how pathetic and frustrated he is.)

There’s nothing to be done about it though, or at least nothing Haru can think of. So he grits his teeth and does what he always does when he’s frustrated and confused — he ignores it and runs on autopilot. Goes through his textbooks as he should, answers questions with what he knows. Takes his baths, curls up to sleep, eats as much mackerel as he damn well pleases. Absolutely  _ doesn’t _ drink up the gazes Makoto throws at him, doesn’t trace his eyes on the way sunlight crowns a halo on Makoto’s hair at certain times of the afternoon, doesn’t linger on Makoto’s smile. It’s too frustrating. It’s too inconvenient, the way his chest aches in the middle of an exam about literature.

Then at some point, he blinks, and — midterms are over. 

Just like that.

Haru’s still sitting at his table, staring out at the rain and half-wondering if he should be worried that he sort of blacked out halfway through that last paper, when Nagisa and Rei burst in through the throng of students cheering and making their way home after the final bell. Nagisa goes through about forty different facial expressions in the span of twenty seconds. Haru stops paying attention after the third.

He does take note of Makoto’s face though. The easy slope of his shoulders now that exam week is done. The way his big hands move up to placate Nagisa, who’s still talking about… something. 

There’s also a tightness to his eyes that Haru recognizes, the stress of a test he isn’t sure he’s done well enough with, and sleepless nights that Haru feels the itch to fix by dragging Makoto home by the tie and into bed with him—

“— do you think, Haru?”

Haru blinks. His eyes move from Makoto’s shoulders to Makoto’s face. “Nh?”

“Haru-chaaan, don’t tell me you were spacing out!” Nagisa whines, pouting. “C’mon, let’s go! I  _ swear _ it’s on me this time, 100%!”

“Nagisa wants to bring us for beef bowls,” Makoto cuts in, thankfully, stopping Nagisa from jumping further up into Haru’s face. “He said it’ll be his treat.”

“It will! I promise, I saved up  _ just _ for this occasion even. Pleaaase Haru-chan, it’s a congrats-we-did-it-yeah-exams-are-over celebratory team dinner!” Nagisa clasps his hands together, even as Rei scoffs.

“There’s nothing to celebrate, we don’t even know if we did  _ well _ in the exams yet—”

“Rei-chan, don’t be such a downer! We made it through, that counts for something. And Aiya has the  _ best _ beef bowls, and I used to know the owner’s sister’s second daughter in my old school, so I’m sure I could convince them to give us a discount on the Rainy Day Mega Beef Bowl Challenge, and if we finish it all we get it for  _ free _ and —”

Haru chooses this point to start tuning Nagisa and Rei’s bickering out again, and turns to Makoto. Makoto, who’s looking at him expectantly, gently, patiently. Always patiently. Haruka doesn’t even need to ask to know what Makoto’s thinking. He can see that plain in his eyes;  _ do you want to go? We don’t have to if you don’t want to _ .

Haru’s tempted to say no. He’s been sort of craving mackerel in miso all day today. But then he looks up to watch the flecks of light in Makoto’s eyes, and the patient curve of his smile, and Haru’s excuses flow out of him like water between his fingers.

“Okay,” Haru says, and then nearly dies when Nagisa pounces on him and slams his head into the window.

* * *

Haru thanks god, the ocean, and his late grandmother for the good sense to not give into Nagisa’s peer pressuring to order the Rainy Day Special, because the look on Nagisa’s face right now looks like a man who’s staring death in the face.

“Urgh… Gou-chan, don’t jostle me like that, I’m gonna buuurst,” Nagisa whines.

“It’s Kou, and that’s your  _ own _ fault!” Kou scolds, adjusting her grip.

“You really shouldn’t have eaten all that,” Rei sighs, tightening his own. “What did we tell you?”

“But it took  _ so _ much of my savings, I’ve been waiting for so long to try the beef bowl and today lined up  _ perfectly  _ and I couldn’t just give up on it... “ Nagisa groans, and then slumps his head on Rei’s shoulders. “I’m going to die victorious…”

It’s almost convincing, just by how Nagisa’s arms are slung over both Rei and Kou’s shoulders, slumped between them and looking almost green. He’s  _ sweating _ . Haru would almost be sympathetic, if Nagisa didn’t dig his own grave by ordering that mega beef bowl and then forcing himself to finish it. (Haruka vaguely wonders which one he should be more impressed by — the beef bowl that seemed to have a portal to some kind of eternal meat dimension, or Nagisa’s stomach for somehow getting to the bottom of it.)

As it is though, Haru’s pleasantly full from his own reasonable-sized beef bowl and chinese tea, and he’s eager to go home and jump in the tub. Makoto seems to sense this, from how he gazes at Haru and then worriedly over to Rei and Kou.

“Are you sure you two can get him home alright? Do you need me to carry him to the station at least?” Makoto offers for the third time in the last five minutes, because he’s too nice like that.

Rei shakes his head. “Thank you, Makoto-senpai, but we won’t impose. We’re going the same way anyhow, and the rain’s already stopped.”

“We’ll drag him by the legs off the train and dump him on his doorstep if we need to,” Kou says sweetly, “And then Rei-kun will walk me home. We’re all good! Get home safe, Makoto-senpai, Haruka-senpai!”

That seems to be enough to placate Makoto, which Haru finds himself oddly relieved by. They stand in front of the diner long enough to watch their two underclassmen hauling their third one into the distance, Makoto waving goodbye to them. Haru’s vaguely impressed by Kou’s strength.

It’s only after they can’t hear Nagisa’s  _ Rei-chaaan you’re going to have to hose me off the walls _ that Makoto turns to him, and says something that Haru recognizes now as a phrase that’s always made his chest feel comfortably warm; 

“Let’s go home, Haru-chan.”

And they do.

As always, they fall into step almost immediately. They don’t say anything, but they both walk a slower pace anyway; the rain’s stopped and the sun’s broken like a golden yolk over the horizon, reflected in the ocean and the puddles they tread through. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. And while it’s only been a week since they last walked back late enough to catch the sunset together, Haru finds something in himself clicking into place where it hasn’t been all that while. It only solidifies when Haru looks up to catch Makoto’s face, and watches his best friend smile at him (and Haru thinks, idly, that the sun will have to try harder if it wants to compete.)

He’s not sure who suggests it first, if anyone suggests it at all. But they find themselves detouring anyway — turning from their usual route to lead them straight home and taking a turn instead, slowly walking up grassy hills and stone steps until they get to where they want to go; the gazebo over the hill, close to where Haru’s home is but a little ways off. It’s a spot they’ve both liked for years. Makoto loves overlooking Iwatobi from here; Haru loves overlooking the ocean.

It’s a little different this time though. The good kind of different. The same that Haru felt when he was staying at Makoto’s home for the week; everything things used to be, but now  _ more _ .

Because the ocean is as breathtaking as it’s always been, powerful and elegant and unknowably vast — but Haru can’t help but look at Makoto too, where he’s sitting besides Haru on the gazebo seat. Can’t help but notice the gold and roses of the sun and sky and water reflected in Makoto’s eyes like honey and spring, a halo in chlorine-bleached hair, the light flowing over him like water flows over Haru. 

Makoto is beautiful like this, Haru thinks. Like this, and always. Makoto looks like he’s made of light.

He realizes quickly that he’s not as subtle as he thinks he is, because Makoto catches his gaze in moments. As soon as he does, he smiles — the soft kind, the fond kind. The kind that feels like slipping into water warmed pleasantly in sunshine. The kind Makoto reserves especially for  _ Haru _ , since forever. His cheeks look pinker in the tea rose of the setting sun, and green eyes have flecks of gold, like springtime. Haru is abruptly glad that they’re both sitting down. His knees feel a little tingly all of a sudden.

“You alright, Haru-chan?” Makoto asks, gently.

“Stop with the -chan,” Haru replies automatically, and then, “... Yeah. Are you?”

“Just super full from dinner,” Makoto sighs, shutting his eyes as he puts a hand to his stomach. “It was nice of Nagisa to pay for our food, but walking after all that beef is a workout in itself…”

Haru snorts. “Like you haven’t eaten more before. Wasn’t it you that gorged yourself on  chāhan the last time we went on a training trip?”

“We swam 12 kilometres that day! And Ama-chan-sensei made so much, I couldn’t let it go to waste,” Makoto retorts, looking genuinely helpless enough about it that Haru has to stifle a smile. And then it quickly fades into a frown as Makoto sighs and says, “Well, I haven’t eaten  _ this _ much food since you enlisted Ran and Ren threaten me into stuffing myself full last week, so maybe that’s why.”

“Makoto. Have you not been eating again?” Haru asks sharply. If Makoto’s been doing that again out of exam stress, he’s going to find a way to permanently move into Makoto’s home. He’ll bribe the Tachibanas if he has to. He can make his own food and sleep in Makoto’s bathtub.

Ultimately, though, he doesn’t have to do that, because Makoto quickly sees his expression and starts waving his hands dismissively, rapidly, eyes wide. “No, I’m okay! I promise I’m eating well, Haru.”

“You’d better be.” Haru narrows his eyes.

“I am, I promise. My mom’s been making  _ sure _ I have three solid meals a day and brings snacks whenever I study, after she found out how I got sick.” Makoto sighs, before turning to Haru again, and breaking into one of his soft smiles like he can’t help it. “... I appreciate it, by the way. What you did. Thank you for taking care of me, Haru  — even though you didn’t have to.”

Haru blinks. And then he says, “Of course I have to. I love you.”

He doesn’t even think about it. Doesn’t realize he’s even _said_ it until he sees Makoto’s eyes start to glisten, hand rapidly clapped over his own mouth as the tears start streaming down his cheeks, glinting in the amber light. Haru’s eyes widen, suddenly confused, suddenly _afraid_ , _what’s wrong, what happened, what did I say_ — and then it finally hits him. All of it, all at once, like a great tidal wave crashing inside him.

_ Oh _ , he thinks.  _ Oh. _

_ I love Makoto. _

_ So that’s what it’s been. All this time. So that’s what it is. _

The thoughts roll in his head, over and over and over. It should be heavier than this, he realizes. It should be more surprising. But it’s like everything else lately; a not-so-revelation, a puzzle piece clicking in place like it’s where it’s supposed to be. Something marvelous that has always been, something amazing he’s always had that he’s just finally,  _ finally _ putting a name to. A word for the way his heartbeat’s been sprinting faster than he’s been, a word for how Makoto’s smile makes his chest feel like a natural waterfall and his stomach like a whirlwind of soaring birds.

He loves Makoto. He understands that now.

“ _ Haru, _ ” Makoto says, voice cracking on the name and muffled behind his palm, “Haru, I— Are you— I’m—”

Makoto’s trembling, Haru realizes. And when he does realize it, he finds himself looking at Makoto’s hand, the one on the space between them. He looks at the inches that separate his own from it.

And then he just… closes it. Like he’s always wanted to.

He doesn’t grip hard, but he does put his hand firmly over Makoto’s. Enough to say that he’s serious, but not so hard that Makoto can’t pull away if he doesn’t want this. The not-so-revelation is something in his own mind, Haruka knows. He’s not so self-absorbed that he’d assume Makoto feels the same. He’s not so selfish that he’d  _ force _ Makoto to return the feelings. 

But he needs Makoto to know, and he needs Makoto to let him know too. Which is why his heart drops to his stomach when Makoto pulls the hand away from underneath his — and why it explodes into a thousand beautiful things when Makoto intertwines his fingers with Haru’s.

Makoto’s still crying, nose running a little, and still the loveliest thing Haru’s seen next to the ocean. The heat of Makoto’s palm seems to travel to his, up his arm and spreading through his body, all the way to his neck and face and cheeks and the very tips of his ears. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so focused on not keeling over from how his insides seem to have melted into liquid sunshine. It feels intense and overwhelming and  _ amazing. _ It feels like sinking to the bottom of a clear pond, but without drowning. Just peace, and contentedness, and joy.

Also, Makoto’s just as red, so that’s pretty reassuring.

“I’m— Oh, wow, I’m a mess, I’m sorry,” Makoto laughs wetly, wiping his face with his sleeve but seeming to be unable to keep his eyes off of Haru like he can’t  _ believe _ this is happening, “I just— For so long, I— And I never  _ thought _ that you’d also—”

“I do,” Haru says firmly, with all his resolve because he does. Because he needs Makoto to believe him. Because these are the words he’s been looking for, all this time, and now that he has them he’s not going to waste them.

He’s not one for words, but even he knows that they are important, sometimes. He knows that they’re important to  _ Makoto _ , just like how wordless gestures are important to Haruka.

Makoto’s always given Haru what Haru wants, whenever he needs it — space, reassurance, wordless comfort and his presence. Haru wants Makoto to know that he can provide what Makoto wants,  _ needs, _ too.

“I love you,” Haru murmurs, “Since always.”

He says it again, and again, as he squeezes Makoto’s hand and then lifts it. Presses his mouth against the inside of Makoto’s wrist even when it makes his own face seem to feel like it’s bursting into flames, lips against Makoto’s thrumming pulse. Every kiss, he hopes to transmit the rest of the words he’s thinking;  _ thank you for being alive. Thank you for being with me. I love you. I don’t remember a time where I didn’t. _

He’ll say them aloud too, at some point, but for now all he can say is  _ I love you,  _ because the rest of him is fit to bursting with it. He feels like a bathtub that’s been filling over the years, left unnoticed until he realizes where he is now — brimming, spilling,  _ overflowing _ with love.

Haru nearly startles when Makoto’s hand starts stroking his cheek. Comes to cup Haruka’s jawline, tender. Looking at Haru with eyes still glimmering, smile so wide it looks like it hurts, and Haru can feel his heart pounding like he’s just finished a 200m swimming sprint. He wonders if Makoto can feel the near-steaming warmth of Haru’s face. He wonders if Makoto can hear how loud his pulse is.

If he does, Makoto doesn’t say it. Instead he says, as beautiful as anything Haru’s ever seen, “I love you too, Haru. I’ve always, always loved you.”

There’s no more words after that, because Makoto leans in, and Haru meets him halfway, and then they’re sharing like they always have — but now breaths. Now lips, and warmth, and helpless smiles making it hard to keep kissing without breaking into soft huffs of laughter. Fingers intertwined, pulses racing, both of them alive and in love and under the same sun. It’s the same earth they’ve always been on, just  _ more. _ Everything that’s always been, just brighter, and sweeter, and richer. More daunting, maybe, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Not when you have the right person by your side.

It’s just how things are. How things should be. And as they walk back home, hand-in-hand in the last sleepy paintstrokes of the sunset — Haru thinks,  _ always. _

**Author's Note:**

> the last time i was into these ridiculous swim boys was when we were convinced we'd never get a season 2. and then i come back years later and find out there's multiple seasons and novels and movies and drama cds and??? SINCE WHEN
> 
> anyway! this was part of a fic-a-day-in-may project that quickly ballooned bc i have a too much gene, but i had so much fun writing this anyway. i'm sure this idea has been done a billion times but like... i'm not gonna complain about more makoharu pining fluff, so, uh,
> 
> PLEASE: don't spoil anything beyond season 1 for me bc i intentionally waited to finish this fic before starting on season 2. if i didn't i would never get this done bc the plot bunnies would breed too quickly for me to do anything with. pls forgive any mistakes, this has not been beta'd at ALL and only given like... one readover. whoop. comments and kudos are MUCH loved and appreciated, and you can come say hi to me on tumblr under the same username! cheers!


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